


the price of starting over

by smalltownmotel



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Co-workers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Neighbors, Romance, Slow Burn, both combined weyhey, both i guess, if i actually manage to make it slow burn lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltownmotel/pseuds/smalltownmotel
Summary: Even lives above Isak. Isak hates loud noises. Even loves throwing loud parties.





	1. Party Kitchens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!  
> so, this is my first ever chaptered fanfic (wow)  
> i hope i won't give up before it's finished  
> anyway, i hope you all enjoy the first chapter!  
> (oh, and thanks to jessie - tiptopevak.tumblr.com for reading over this and helping me with some stuff you're amazing <3)

The apartment door falls shut behind Isak. A sigh leaves his body as he toes off his shoes, then throws his bag somewhere he won’t remember later.

He’s still got that can of ravioli in the fridge he’s been thinking of all day, and god, maybe there’s even some beer left. He turns on the stove, then the radio that always produces white noise for a solid five minutes before settling on a station, finally. Sometimes he wishes he had enough money for Spotify. The cups on the shelf rattle as a tram approaches the station right outside his flat. It’s all good. He’s home. And it’s only 7pm after all, enough time to squeeze in two, three episodes of Narcos before going to sleep and-

The bass makes him stop dead in his tracks. Fucking _hell_. Who throws parties on a fucking Wednesday evening?

Never mind, he knows who. Fucking Mikael Øverlie Boukhal and Even Bech Næsheim, that’s who. They had moved into the flat above him after Isak had lived in his apartment for two months _in blissful silence_. They were film students, which was the worst kind of hipster Isak could imagine, and apparently their studies demanded so little from them that they found the time (and energy) to throw their fucking parties several times every week.

The thing is, Isak cherishes the quiet, has never liked loud noises, and it’s always been like that. They remind him of fights, two adults screaming insults at each other with a helpless blonde-haired, big-eyed boy sitting on the living room carpet with his toys, not even fully understanding what was going on yet. Remind him of screams, of cutlery crashing and breaking, of a woman’s voice begging and wheezing about being watched. Of a breathless nurse trying to stay calm when telling a 16-year old the bitter truth.

There’s peace in silence. Peace and a hopeful promise of maybe being understood.

But with Even Bech Næsheim and Mikael Øverlie Boukhal living above Isak, silence was near to non-existent. And Isak was seriously tired of waltzing up the two dark-wooded flights of stairs to their apartment every time, since he apparently was the only one disturbed by the noise (the only other people who could’ve been were an old couple living across the hall of Even and Mikael and Isak was convinced they were completely deaf since the lady left her apartment one time when Isak was also up there and didn’t even acknowledge his existence).  So yeah.

The first time he went there, everyone thought he was someone wanting to attend the party. He didn’t even know who his new upstairs neighbors were, had barely had time to take a glance at the name on the door before he was being pulled into the flat by a drunk stranger opening the door for him, and he had to slowly make his way through the hot, sticky, totally overcrowded flat until he finally found someone able to show him Mikael, a boy with outgrown brown hair sitting on a couch with a horrible yellow couch cover. It seemed to be the only furniture they had in the room so far- the wall was lined with moving boxes and the only light source in the room was coming from a bare light bulb hanging in the middle of the room (at that point Isak had still thought they had been too lazy to purchase a lampshade yet, but as it later turned out, they were fine with only a flimsy light bulb lighting up their living room. Bloody film students). Mikael had actually been nice to him, which was kind of confusing, because how could someone so oblivious about how the volume of party music was only appropriate up to a certain point if you lived in a flat complex still be so _nice_? Although he hadn’t really understood what Isak wanted (probably because he was high as a kite, as Isak later realized), he had been really welcoming, full on smiling and inviting Isak to stay which- no thanks, and he had promised to “see what he could do about the music”.

Isak was patient, until the second party, which happened just three days later. The music was _exactly the same volume,_ if not louder, and Jesus, the walls weren’t _that_ thick, what were they thinking?

 

During that second party, Isak met Even. He found him, perched up on his own kitchen counter, joint in his left hand, pencil in his right hand, sketch book thrown down next to him on the counter. He was beautiful, fluffy dark blonde hair and veiny arms and white wrinkly shirt. It was like a scene from some movie, grey smoke wafting in front of his face before he blew it away just moments after, a vibrant blue eyeing Isak curiously as he entered the kitchen. Behind him, the window was open, letting in the ice cold air of Oslo’s winter nights, and Isak blamed the slight shiver that went through his body on it.

He coughed silently, then. “Uhm, the music’s very loud.” Straight to the point, maybe that would work better than his previous attempt. Even just smiled. “I’m aware.” Isak couldn’t help but raise up his hands as if to silently say _“Really? This is your reply?”_. “Yeah, so, turn it down?” Even offered the joint to Isak then, who shook his head, having sworn off alcohol and drugs years ago. Even shrugged, bringing the joint up to his fucking beautiful lips again and taking another drag. He didn’t reply. And somehow Isak was okay with it, in that very moment, as long as he could look at Even a little longer.  

When he went there the _third_ time, Even or Mikael, or even both, had apparently told others about him. At least people were looking at him amusedly, and so was Even when Isak found him in the kitchen _again_. “Why are people looking at me like I’m the fucking party clown, Even?”, Isak had asked, and Even had chuckled in response. “Isak, why don’t you just sit down with me, have a beer or whatever and enjoy the party? Just relax.”

After half an hour of unsuccessfully trying to convince Even that this whole procedure was incredibly annoying and that it should stop, Isak got so frustrated he just left. The most irritating thing was, Even didn’t stop being nice to him, didn’t stop being calm and kind when Isak started getting angry. It was confusing, and unsettling, and that evening, when Isak was stomping down the stairs in frustration, he told himself he would rather die of sleep deprivation than be treated weirdly by Even and his party guests.

So. He can totally stay in his flat tonight and ignore it all, get used to it just like he’s gotten used to the rattling cups and the trams driving by every fifteen minutes. It’s going to be fine. He’s fine.

 Isak ends up spending the evening holed up in his flat, eating cheap ravioli which are actually much better than you’d expect and watching Narcos. With headphones.

But by 1am, when he’s actually laying down in bed because he has to get up in 6 fucking hours because he has a daily routine like a normal person, they still haven’t quieted down, and this just isn’t fucking okay. Isak has had enough trouble falling asleep all alone too, thank you very much. No need to _push it_.

The dull bass is repetitive enough to send him off into a kind of half-sleep, floating somewhere between sleep and conscience, coming back to reality every once in a while. Too tired to actually make sense of the reason for the volume, too sentient to fall fully asleep.

 

It’s fine. It is okay for now, it is not like Isak was dying from this slight lack of sleep, hell, he had experienced way worse at times of which the memories he had stored somewhere in the very back of his mind, intending on leaving them there forever.

When Isak stumbles into Kaffebrenneriet at 7:30, though, curls their usual mess, early shift ahead of him, it is not without a yawn. Julian, his coworker gives him an empathic smile. “Good morning to you too, Isak.” Isak snorts. “Morning.” Seeing Julians’ eyebrows, raised in silent question, he furrows his own. “What is it?” “You look like your night was long”, Julian says, smile still present on his face.

Isak nods, knotting his apron behind his back. It has little blotches of milk and chocolate syrup on there, and okay, maybe he should actually wash it once in a while. _He_ wouldn’t want to buy coffee from someone wearing an apron with _stuff_ on it. Anyway. It’s not like they have a washing machine at Kaffebrenneriet and- he looks up to find Julian still looking at him. Oh, right, they were having a conversation there.

A sigh leaves Isak’s mouth. “Yeah, well. It was involuntary, I guess. My upstairs neighbors tend to be.. loud.” “Were they fucking?” And okay, Isak chokes a bit at that. Fucking Julian, straight to the point as always. “No, god, they’re both guys and-“ “Aren’t you _gay_ , Isak?” “Yeah. Uhm, anyway, that’s not the _point_ , they’re partying like, several times a week and it keeps me up and it sucks and I hate them.” “Why don’t you just party with them then?” Isak huffs, leaning against the counter and _can’t some customers come already so he finally can work in peace?_ “I don’t, uhm, do that. Yeah.”

Julian, although Isak can see he wants to ask why the hell Isak doesn’t go to _parties_ , thankfully seems to sense Isak is not in the mood to talk right now. “Okay. Well, whatever, I.. actually have to go make an order for more coffee beans so..” Isak nods and with that, Julian disappears, leaving him alone behind the counter.

 

It’s an okay shift, the usual crowd of people coming in, a lull about 11am before loads of students and businessmen enter around lunch time. Isak does small talk. Makes coffees, and juices and smoothies and heats up sandwiches. He smiles at Ada, the old lady who buys a cappuccino every day. He judgingly eyes some pretentious hipsters (probably wannabe models, he thinks, shaking his head) who proceed to take the spots at the window and film some weird stuff with their phones. He gets some more stains on his apron and his jeans which were actually freshly washed, thanks for nothing.

He does enough work to keep his mind occupied, so that his thoughts have no chance to wander off to places Isak can’t get them back out of without damage.

His shift ends at 13:30 and he leaves straight for class, ignoring his legs hurting from standing for five hours and his eye bags he notices when catching a glimpse of himself in the uni bathroom mirror. Vilde, the girl he sat next to on the first day of class because she had been the only person giving Isak a smile in the whole lecture hall, only has to kick him twice during the lecture when he slightly dozes off. It’s alright. Excluding his tiredness, he manages to take notes and pay attention for the most part. And it's the only class he has today anyway.

Isak didn’t really understand why Vilde took a Biology class when she wanted to become a lawyer, but she had simply replied “It interests me” when Isak had questioned her about it, so that’s that. They always sit next to each other, responsible for keeping the other awake. Simple symbiosis. Nothing else.

The only problem with Vilde is that _after_ the lecture, you should try to get away as soon as possible, because otherwise- “Uh, Isak?” Yep, there it is. Isak sighs, forcing his college block inside his bag, already knowing that he’ll hate himself for crumbling the pages as soon as he’ll unpack it at home. “There’s a party at Julian Dahl’s tonight and I wanted to ask if you want to come with me?” Of course. “Vilde, how do you even _know_ Julian Dahl?”  “I have Philosophy of Law with him, Isak. How do _you_ know him?” Vilde asks, and well, yeah, it’s admittedly weird when Isak knows people that Vilde knows too, because, well. He knows nobody. He doesn’t _want_ to know anybody.

 “He’s my coworker. At Kaffebrenneriet.” Vilde nods. “Ah, yeah. So, are you up for it?” Isak sighs, scratching the back of his head, pretending to think about it. “No Vilde, I have to work tonight, I’m sorry.” She tilts her head, eyebrows furrowed. “You never come to _any_ parties with me.” “Well yeah, you can’t expect me to just skip work?” “You don’t always have work though. Oh, and by the way..” Right then, new students begin entering the lecture hall where the next class must be about to start, Isak and Vilde still standing in front of their seats. That’s Isak’s cue. “Well, it was really nice that you invited me, Vilde. Maybe another time. See you!” With that, he’s out the door, nearly running into a red-haired girl who glares at him in response and okay, rude.

 

Fucking Vilde. It’s her fault he’s missed his tram and will now be late for his shift at the cinema, where he works his second job. Annoyed, he pulls out his phone.

**Leie**

You haven't transferred this  
month's rent yet. I would  
appreciate if you could do so  
until Sunday.  
M.

 

 

Oh, dang. How could he have forgotten? It must’ve gotten lost somewhere along the way, the thought of “Hey, Isak, you actually still need to pay your rent”.  Somewhere between all his uni work and knowledge on how to work popcorn and coffee machines, there _should_ be space to think about rent. But, well. Isak fumbles around in the right pocket of his jacket, and there it is, the little post-it notes he carries around because despite being atop of his class and having graduated High School with 6’s in every subject (except for chemistry. Chemistry sucks), he’s very forgetful, a bad habit which annoys him more than anything else. “ _Transfer rent_ ”, he scribbles down with the pencil he keeps in his pockets as well, “ _until Sunday!!!!!”_. Then, he removes the post-it, puts it inside his _crumpled_ college blog and prays he won’t forget paying the goddamn rent. He’s not working two jobs only to forget to pay the thing he’s doing it for (among other things).

It’s 18:16, 16 minutes after the start of his shift, when he finally enters the cinema. The 18:00 movie has just started and there’s no customers for the 18:30 film yet, so everything’s calm right now. Which could be nice, if Isak had actually been on time.

He’s greeted with Mari, his shift supervisor, looking at him questioningly when he’s changed and on his way back. He breathes in, thinks about possible excuses. “I’m sorry, Mari. I missed the tram from uni and..” Mari stops him with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing, Isak, you know I don’t mind. Some kids just spilled popcorn all over the seats in hall 5, I can’t even bring myself to mind.” Isak smiles at her and together they start walking to the front desk.

Isak hopes for a quiet shift, as he always does. Which means- no troublemakers, no teenage boys who need to push their egos and most importantly, no popcorn-throwing kids.

 Then he sees him. Even is behind the front desk, right next to the popcorn machine where Isak usually stands. Wearing the staff uniform and everything. What the fuck.

Even is just _standing_ there like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like he doesn’t keep Isak awake at night with his fucking hipster parties, like Isak hasn't made a complete ass of himself in front of him. The smile he throws Isak upon noticing him, so open-minded and _nice_ , makes nervous butterflies spread out their wings in Isak’s stomach. It feels like nobody has smiled at him like that in forever.

“Hey Isak! Wow, I didn’t know you worked here!” Even is still smiling and Isak grinds his teeth against each other, frantically searching his head for something, anything to say.

“Oh, yeah, Isak, I forgot to tell you. You have a coworker now. You already know each other?” Now Mari smiles at him as well.  

Fucking _hell_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, that's it for now!  
> kudos and comments are highly appreciated.  
> come talk to me about anything and everything on lgbtqevak.tumblr.com  
> xoxo emil


	2. Oslo Streets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all you guys, i'm back with the second chapter!
> 
> okay, and let me just tell you all how amazing you are- i got SO much positive feedback. honestly, there is nothing better than seeing people appreciate what i wrote. i thank every single one of you <333 
> 
> and jessie- thanks to you again for helping, my talented friend. 
> 
> however, school is starting next week and it will probably keep me very busy, so i'm not sure how often i'll be able to upload. but i'll try my best.  
> and now, i hope you enjoy the second chapter.

The bear is brown, with black buttons as eyes, or well, there is only one eye left because one time 4-year old Isak wanted to see if the back of the button eye looked the same as the front, and well, that’s how he ripped out one of his teddy’s eyes. He cried a bit, because it was probably not possible to take an eye from someone without hurting them and that hadn’t even been his intention.

Nobody had ever sewed the button back on, and so Isak had accepted his teddy as he was, one-eyed and still perfect.

Right now, he’s next to Isak, on the wooded floor of his room. His window is opened slightly, curtains shifting in the light breeze of the summer evening. Birds are singing outside, and the heat of the day, unusual for Norway, is slowly transforming into a comfortable warmth.

Earlier that day, Isak had gone fishing with his dad for the very first time. He had liked it at first, the beauty of the lake and the forest and the pines reflecting on the water and the little spider that had built its net right under the steering wheel of the boat and had been much more interesting than the fishing root he was supposed to hold into the water.

Isak didn’t like it anymore when his dad caught a fish. When Isak saw it wriggling on the hook, and when his dad beat it until it _stopped_ wriggling. His dad had laughed when Isak had started crying, taking the small boy into his arms and explaining that the fish had to die and that it was better like this than to slowly let it choke on the air. But Isak was still upset, and so they had went back pretty soon.

“Are you angry because I don’t like fishing, Pappa?”, Isak had asked. His dad had ruffled his curls. “Why would I be angry, Isak? Everyone likes different things.”

 

“Everyone likes different things, you know?” Isak tells his teddy. He stares on the wall behind Isak with one eye. But Isak knows he is listening. Then, he hears his mother call him. When he goes downstairs, he sees the table set outside the house, on the back porch where the sunlight is painting everything golden. His mum smiles at him. “Darling, will you please go get Pappa? Tell him dinner is ready.”  Isak nods, running back inside, towards the room his dad uses when he has to work on things. He opens the door, a "Pappa" on his lips already, but he isn’t there. Confused, Isak turns his head to take in the whole room, and then he sees her. The nurse, who is breathless and has long, dark-brown hair and is wearing glasses and a shirt so brightly white Isak nearly has to squint.

And suddenly Isak isn’t four years old anymore, he’s 16 and the room around them changes and then he’s not home anymore but in a hospital corridor with horrible bright light and green floors and green walls and green everything and the disgusting stench of sanitizer in the air. Then the nurse, who’s called Emilie, as it says on her name tag, opens her mouth and Isak can feel his heart beating so fast it feels like it might break out of his chest any second. “I’m sorry, Mr Valtersen. I thought you had been informed beforehand. If you’d follow me please-“ But Isak doesn’t hear her, because he’s screaming, and his legs stop carrying him, so he sinks down to the floor and-

 

Isak sits up in bed, breathing as if he’d just finished a marathon. There’s tears stinging in his eyes, and everything’s blurry, and he can feel his throat closing up, making him heave for air and let out a sob. _Calm down, Isak, calm down. Where are you? Your flat._ _What time is it? 2:34, as it says on your phone. With who? Alone. All alone. Why are you panicking? Just had a bad dream, that’s all. Just a dream._

Isak lays back down, forcing his breaths to be slow, places his hand onto his stomach, breathes in, out, in, out, right to where his hand is. It’s okay. It’s all good. No nurses or hospitals or childhood homes anywhere in sight. _Don’t be afraid, Isak. It’s been fucking years. Now sleep._

He forces his eyes closed, makes himself think about uni, and coursework, and the little cactus he keeps on his window sill that he has named Rasmus and how he actually has to give the guy some water soon. Thinks about the rent, and about nothing and everything until he finally falls back into sleep, salty tear tracks still on his cheeks.

 

The next morning, he gets up. He showers. He sticks a post-it note to the fridge, a reminder that he needs to buy milk. He makes coffee. Then he heads to Kaffebrenneriet to make more and better coffee for other people. Ignorance is bliss by Kendrick Lamar is blaring through his headphones as the tram approaches the station, cups on his shelf rattling with nobody there to hear it.

 

It’s Friday today. Good old Friday. Isak sometimes gets nostalgic on Fridays, because he thinks of what they used to mean to him. Of how they used to be the nice days, where all worries were gone, at least for the duration of the weekend. 

Now, Fridays are just weekdays, and all they mean is that there won’t be uni tomorrow and so he’ll do a full eight-hour shift at Kaffebrenneriet and then six hours at the cinema. Then coursework. Then Sunday. Oh, Sunday, fuck. He still needs to transfer the rent.

Anyway. Julian is telling him some story about his super great party while Isak is making the cappuccino for Ada, and seriously, is everyone in this goddamn town having parties in the middle of the week?

_It was so awesome, next time you should come._ Isak is too exhausted to remind him that he still doesn’t go to parties. Ada throws him an understanding smile when being handed her cup, and when Isak rolls his eyes at her, then slightly tilts his head into Julian’s direction, she laughs a bit.

Ada is great. She just gets Isak. They never say much to each other, after all, she’s only a customer, but there’s this quiet understanding in her eyes that somehow calms Isak down. Ada looks like she has experienced everything a person could experience in the span of one lifetime. Like she is filled to the brim with memories, and advice, and wisdom. She never demands anything from Isak, she just wants coffee. Coffee and a smile. And Isak can give her just that.

“Isak?” “Yes, Julian?” “Why don’t you go to parties?” Fucking _Christ_. Who did this boy think he was? “Uh, because I don’t like them?” “But I know you used to go to them. Why don’t you anymore?” “Julian, how the hell do you know that?” _Fucking stalker_. “Vilde told me. Last night. She said she knows you and she also knows someone who went to High School with you.”

Isak freezes, thankful he isn’t holding a drink right now, because he would have dropped it. He feels his throat getting tight and he knows he must confuse Julian with his sudden mood change, but _fuck_. His hands feel like ice. “Do you know who that is?” “Are you okay, Isak?” Julian looks kind of alarmed now and fucking hell, this was not what Isak was aiming for. “I said, do you _know_ who that is?” Isak says, holding onto his apron, hoping to make his fucking hands stop shaking. “Jeez. Uhm, I think some guy named Markus?” And, okay. Isak can feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders. Julian looks at him with real concern in his eyes, and Isak laughs, suddenly feeling silly. _Why_ would it be one of them? There were loads of other people at Nissen the same time as him.

“Never mind, man. It’s all good.” Julian nods, eyebrows raised, polite enough not to dig any further. Sometimes, Isak is thankful for him.

During his uni classes, Isak finds himself staring out of the window, watching birds fly across the grey winter sky, where giant mountains of clouds prevent the sun from coming through at all. He used to call winter his least favourite season, didn’t like how he was always freezing, never able to get his feet warm. How it was only possible to hang out with friends inside. How the sky stayed the same monotone colour for months on end, how people were walking with fast steps and heads down, trying to get inside as fast as possible, never stopping, never smiling. How nature just died and everything was an unexplainable bit sadder than usually.

Now, seasons just change, and everything is still the same, except for the layers of clothes he wears.

 

When Isak gets to the cinema’s front desk, _on time_ , Even is there. Of course. Will they have every shift together now, or what? He can’t make up an excuse for why he can’t walk home together with him today _again_ , fuck. “Hi!” Even says, smiling gently as always. Goddammit. “Hi, Even.” Isak sighs. “How are you?” Some small talk, artificial and non-revealing. That’ll do. “I don’t know, I’m pretty tired today. You?” Oh, and okay. Couldn’t he just have said he’s _fine_?  “Tired? Wow, you didn’t even have a party. I’m surprised.” The snarky remark is out before Isak can do anything about it. Even laughs, though. “I didn’t. But I was still tired, after, uhm.. the, the shift, yeah, the shift and everything, so yeah..”

Isak snorts, turning around to sort out the paper cups for the drinks. He knows exactly what kind of guy Even is. One of those _oh, look at me, I’m totally financially stable and don’t actually need a job and that’s why I get tired after working a five-hour-shift one time_ -guys. One of those who have always had it easy in life, and who always will. Who find the time to study _film_ , as if you would make any money from that.

And Isak can’t deal with those kind of people. Not when he knows what it’s like to be 18 and manage three fucking jobs just to hold yourself overwater. When he’s had to work up to _everything_ he has right now on his _own_. So, yeah. He’s really not interested in working with Even, thank you very much, and he would like him to stop pretending to be the _nice guy_ so Isak can finally stop feeling like he needs to be super careful with everything he says because otherwise Even might think he wants to get to know him.

“It was just five hours”, Isak says then, voice sounding exactly as bitter as he feels, turning around to Even, and when he sees him looking confused Isak realizes he probably turned around for a bit too long. “The shift, I mean.” “So?” Even counters, confusion still written all over his face. “It’s not like that’s _a lot_.” Isak says. Even snorts, and finally, _finally_ , he’s not smiling.

Some customers come in right then, and they have to stop talking while Even sells them the tickets, starts describing which hall the film will be in and Isak prepares the snacks.

When they’re gone though, Even turns back to Isak. “I’m aware it’s not that long. But like, can’t I still be tired? It was my first time after all.” Wow, he really got this guy to feel like he has to defend himself. Isak feels the smirk creeping up on his face. “Well, my first time, I was there for eight hours.” “Fucking great for you, I didn’t know this was a competition.” Now Even is shaking his head, looking somewhere across the room, probably at one of the movie posters of the upcoming films.

Isak decides to let him be, and as an entire group of people comes in, they don’t have any time to frown at each other anyway.

But the shift is long, and just glaring at each other in silence is weird and also very uncomfortable, and that apparently makes Even decide he should hold onto his belief that Isak is nice a little longer. It’s near the end of work, Isak is mentally already cooking dinner, when Even starts talking. “Why do you work at a cinema?” Isak is quiet for a moment, and hell, Even probably expects some super deep and poetic answer like the _film student_ he is.

“Because I need money, Even. Money”, Isak laughs. “What did you expect? _I love movies and was hoping to meet the love of my life while secretly sneaking into a screening of Romeo and Juliet?”_ He snorts, “Just because you’re some weird hipster movie nerd and you probably started working here for the aesthetic, doesn’t mean everyone else is a character in whatever film you think you’re in.”

Even says nothing. Isak can feel the muscles in his jaw working, and it somehow looks like someone has turned down the light in his blue eyes, and then Even turns around and walks away, and Isak realizes the shift is over.

When he has changed and steps outside, Even is nowhere to be seen.

 

Isak is eating pizza, so much for cooking dinner, and he’s watching some random documentary about deep-sea fish on his laptop, and even though it’s a Friday night, there’s not a sound coming from the flat above him. It _should_ be perfect. But there’s guilt, fucking guilt eating at Isak, and he’s annoyed at himself and whatever else is responsible for his outburst earlier. He hadn’t meant to hurt Even. Even just- his fucking eyes, blue and pretty, he has that look in them, as if he knows everything Isak has ever tried to hide.  And that just- that’s scary, and unsettling, and Isak doesn’t want that, okay? 

But how Even had looked after Isak’s comment, so vulnerable and hurt and kind of _small_ , and all because of Isak and Isak only – that wasn’t what he had aimed for. Not at all. Nobody deserved to feel like that just because he couldn’t hold back his shitty personality. Isak knows, or well, _hopes_ Even will get over it. But he still feels bad.

It keeps nagging at him the whole evening, and so Isak is going to bed relatively soon, hoping to shut his thoughts out while sleeping – and also cherishing the quiet Friday night. It’s a seldom occurrence.

 

_“You’re never going to hurt someone again. Never again. You’re never going to hurt someone again. Never again.”_

Isak can’t sleep. It’s like a goddamn mantra repeating in his head, and it won’t stop, it just won’t. He stares up at the ceiling in desperation, tries to think about anything at all, but then it’s back, the knowledge he has done what he vowed himself to never do again, and he hates himself, he hates himself so goddamn much because he can’t even manage to get this one little thing right, the reason why he’s doing all this.

The thoughts are like a big blanket, slowly sinking down onto him from the ceiling and Isak feels the walls closing in around him and the panic rising in his stomach and he needs to get _out_.

Frantically having pulled on some jeans and a hoodie, he grabs his keys and then he opens the door and has a heart attack for about five seconds because there is _someone_ at the top of the stairs. Then he realizes it’s Even. Walking down the stairs, wearing a hoodie as well. “Looks like we had the same idea, huh?” Even says, but it doesn’t sound nice. He just sounds tired, and still a tiny bit hurt, and Isak’s insides churn.

“Uhm. Can we.. can we talk?” Isak’s sense of pride is screaming at him, telling him to piss off and let Even _deal with it_ for the sake of Isak’s ego, but at the same time he feels way too guilty. Even looks at him in disbelief.

“Talk?” “Yeah?” “About _what_? Do you want to make fun of me for being outside my flat at 2 in the morning? Do you think I think it’s _aesthetic_?” Even starts walking down the stairs, looking anywhere but at Isak, and he _has_ to apologize. Now. “No, Even.. I’m sorry, okay?”, he starts, trailing down the stairs behind him. All he can see is the back of Even’s head, so no chance of reading his expression. “I guess I kind of overreacted. Excuse me. If you think your life is a movie then.. that’s fine. Okay?”

They’re outside now, and Even is saying nothing, but he’s also letting Isak walk next to him. They just walk for a while, through empty streets with bright street lamps, the black of the night sky above them like a far-away ceiling, houses left and right making the walls, and somehow, the silence isn’t tense, nor awkward. It just is. Then, Even opens his mouth. “You know what, Isak? Yes, I think my whole life is a film. Or well. I like to imagine myself in a film, a flawless version of myself. Do you know why that is? Because I’m bipolar.”

Isak just gazes straight ahead, not really focusing on anything, feeling Even eyeing him from the side and his face burning hot. There’s guilt inside of him, still there, but now it’s paired with a whole lot of shame. “I’m bipolar, and sometimes I get so bad it helps. It helps to imagine that I can direct what happens next, that I can plan all my moves and that eventually the plot will turn around into a good ending. It’s called a coping method.”

Isak swallows.  “Sorry. Really, Even, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  

Even's lips are pursed, and Isak licks his own desperately. "I say stupid shit sometimes, okay? I had a bad day and took it out on you. Please forgive me. I’m sorry for judging you like this.”

Even stops walking, looks at Isak. “Isak, forget it, okay? It’s alright. I don’t know _why_ you said what you did, but, like, everyone does dumb stuff sometimes, man. I have to know.” He pauses for a moment.  
“And seriously, we have to work together. And I’m honestly too old to involve myself into some weird kind of rivalry.” He raises his eyebrows, and Isak lets out some kind of relieved laugh. Wow.

 “Okay?” Even asks, then, and Isak nods, still not fully managing to look Even in the eyes.

 “Good. And now, can we go back? It’s kind of cold.” And yeah, it is. When Isak looks down at his hands, they’re tinted red from the icy temperatures.

So they turn around, and they walk back, and it’s all still the same, the dark sky, the houses lined up next to each other, and Isak feels like they’re the only two people in the world, having survived the apocalypse, and now they’re both just _there_ , needing to find out how to function together first. They both did something they don’t normally do, went out of their comfort zone. And this is only the beginning, because now they’ve found each other, and they need to stick together.

Yeah, he kind of gets it, the thing with the movies, when looking at it that way.

Around them is complete silence, save for a couple of cars driving in the distance. Isak tries to recall the last time he was outside so late. He can’t.

Even is walking next to him, and neither of them look at the other, but it’s there, the presence of the other. They share this moment, somewhere in Oslo under a dark sky and bright street lamps and surrounded by mute and blind house facades, in the middle of winter and the middle of the night, lost in the middle of their own thoughts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, that's it! i hope you liked it.
> 
> pls, let me know all your thoughts (constructive criticism is definitely allowed) or just talk to me about random stuff on lgbtqevak.tumblr.com 
> 
> emil xx


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